Emma stalls for as long as she can before she walks up to Henry's door. Then she waits, talking herself in and out of breaking the news to him, until she finally works up the courage to give a timid knock. There's no answer, so she tries again a bit louder. Then louder and louder, until she gives up and opens his door.

Henry's seated, back up against the headboard and legs stretched out nearly the entire length of his bed, typing furiously in his laptop with loud hard rock bleeding from his earphones. His button-down is a little rumpled, the first couple buttons undone, sleeves cuffed haphazardly just below his elbows, hair waiver and messier than normal with a few dark strands crowding his vision, as if he had run his hand through it countless times. He looks up at her, slaps the laptop shut, pops an earbud out. There's small dark circles surrounding his eyes, and there's firm lines around his mouth framing his pressed, set lips, and in that moment, he looks the oldest Emma has ever seen him. She takes a step back, almost scared by his expression, and her mind circles around one thing: He looks angry. He must have heard. He must have.

They stare at each other, and Emma keeps expecting Henry to say something, but he just looks on with that same expression that puts her off so much, that she cracks. "Henry....your mom--"

"Yes? Where is she?" He demands, yanking out his other earphone, making as if to stand.

So he didn't hear everything. Emma doesn't know whether to be more upset or relieved. "She's...er-she's getting a hotel."

Henry all but throws his computer off his lap on the bed beside him, and stands up faster than she's ever seen him move. "What?" He takes a couple steps forward until he's standing right next to Emma. "She is what?"

"She said she'd text you where she was going....Henry I said some things.."

"Yes, yes, you did. Are you referring to you saying that I'm your son and this whole vacation, that I planned entirely around including my mom in the missing year because she suffered by the way, is your territory and that she basically has no place or worth here?"

Emma's heart drops. "I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean what? I'm not your ownership, I'm not an object you two can fight over, pulling me side to side anymore. You two are both my mothers, you gave birth to me, mom raised me, and I'm not going to be the prize of this contest anymore. I tried to do something nice for the three of us and you turned it completely around to make her feel like shit!"

Emma's vision clouds with tears. "Henry, I--"

"No, thank you. My mom is out there, alone in those busy streets, somewhere she's never been before, trying to find a hotel because apparently she's no longer welcome in the home from the life she gave us." The moment Henry stops speaking, his phone dings. He breaks his eye contact with Emma and fishes it out of his pocket, and when his eyes flick over the screen, he jumps to life.

"What, what was it?" Emma asks, unable to help herself, although she knows Henry's angry with her.

"It's Mom. It's the address." He replies, stuffing it back in his pocket, grabs his jacket off his chair. "I'm going." He adjusts his shirt, then strides out of the apartment. Emma hadn't been invited, and she hadn't wanted to come, but everything about this is so messed up, and her eyes are stinging. She sinks to the floor and finally allows herself to cry.

---

Henry walks out of the apartment complex for the third time that day, now in search of his other mother. This whole situation shouldn't have involved him this much, but with his moms acting like idiots, both running away from each other and saying awful things, they're yanking him side to side once more. He can't believe that Emma just pulled the "my son" card, how careless she was. Does she know how that makes his mom feel, his mom who actually raised him? Does she know what that does for him? With both moms trying to own him separately, it tears him apart at the edges and he would rather just spend his vacations with college friends than to go through this shit. He finally slows his pace when he reaches the sidewalk after unlocking the gate, and squints at the address in his phone against the sunlight. She's several blocks away, and he doesn't feel he has the strength to walk that at the moment, so he flags down a cab. He takes out his phone once seated in the vehicle, and lets his mom know he's on his way, asks for the room number.

He knocks three times on the correct door and waits hardly five seconds before it's inched open. Through the small crack in the door, he can make out red eyes, and his heart sinks. If there's one thing he can't handle, it's his mom crying.

"Mom," he forces out, trying and failing to get past the buildup in the back of his throat. She opens the door all the way and lets him in. Without even thinking about what he's doing, he collects his mother into his arms, which completely wrap around her now. She seems so small and frail against him, and his heart years for the time when she was so big, strong, so unbreakable, untouchable, unmovable, so stable and steady. She was much taller, and seemed so capable of anything. He misses when their roles were reversed, and it was his cheek pressed up against her warm, comforting chest. It had been so safe and secure, like whatever had been harming him was far away and unimportant while he was wrapped up in her arms. He can only hope that he's giving her the same comfort now that she did for him all those years ago. He feels her melt into his embrace, fingers clutching at the fabric on his mid-back, burrowing her face into his shirt, next to his beating heart.

"Henry," she replies, voice muffled by his chest. He steps back, holds her by the shoulders, with hands that completely cover them. He remembers sitting on those same shoulders when he was very, very small.

"Come back," he pleads, and now his own eyes are prickling. He ignores it. "I'm sorry this vacation has turned out so terrible," he sighs, releasing one hand from her and rubs it down his face, groaning. "This is my fault."

Regina shakes her head violently, dark, soft hair whipping around her face. Heels having been forsaken the moment she'd stepped inside, she raises herself to stand on her toes and cradles his once-again scratchy jaw. "No, no, baby, none of this is your fault. I'm sorry we completely ruined your vacation," she says earnestly, guilt gnawing in her gut. 

Henry scoffs. "I don't care about a vacation. I just care about...all of us. I wanted to do something for us. For you, and..." He blinks up at the ceiling. "Please come back. We can just go home."

Regina looks down. "I can't," she says softly, and Henry grabs her hand.

"Okay. How about I stay here tonight?" He suggests, lifting her face up with a finger under her chin.

She smiles a little. "Are you sure-"

Henry smirks, looking more like his usual self. He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and takes out Iron Man, their favorite Marvel movie. "Am I sure? I came prepared."

And even with all the built-up grief, anger, confusion, and the Evil Queen threatening to come out and play, she allows herself to laugh.

---

Henry wakes up royally cramped the next morning. He stretches on the thin, crunchy mattress, and when he straightens his legs, his ankles bang against the cold metal skeleton of the fold-out couch. He winces, and sits up with force. Whoever designed this half-bed, half-couch obviously did not have people well over 6 feet in mind. He hadn't fit underneath the scratchy white sheets that accompanied the couch, so his feet were basically freezing all night. He stands up, nearly trips over that damn metal bar, and curses. He glances at his mom, who's sleeping peacefully in the only bed in the crappy hotel room. He recalls insisting that he'd be fine on the couch, commanding that she take the bed, and only slightly regrets his aching body when he sees how calm and happy she looks. Struck by a sudden thought, he scribbles a quick note on a nearby pad of paper, and places it on the nightstand next to her bed, before exiting the building.

He returns soon after, with a paper bag clutched in one hand, a fast food joint's name printed across the bag. He sets it down on the table, starting to take out food in small cardboard boxes, when Regina stirs. She makes a quiet, though high-pitched, yawning noise while stretching, then sits up. He watches, amused, as she blinks a few times confusedly, trying to understand her surroundings. Then her eyes settle on him, and she smiles.

"Good morning, Sweetheart. What's that?" She asks, voice scratchy from sleep. She lets no one but Henry see her this way, exception made once for Emma only two nights ago, and her heart drops at the thought. She's not going to think about Emma. Not right now.

"Breakfast," he says dramatically, sweeping his arms over the table in mock grandeur. In reality, it was just greasy chicken on bagels accompanied by hash browns, but there was no better option for a lonely hotel located in New York. Besides, Regina is looking at him with so much pride it's as if he cooked a feast.

"Henry," she says smiling widely, climbing down from her bed. A soft, warm, fully covered, full-sized bed, Henry notes. "You're so thoughtful." She sits next to him, pulling a sandwich towards her.

"What? It's just Chick-fil-a," Henry shrugs, popping a hash brown into his mouth. "You'd do the same."

"I would, you're right, but perhaps I'd pick somewhere less greasy."

"There it is!" Henry grins, laughing while shielding his face from the balled-up napkin thrown his way. While they finish their meal, Regina admits inwardly that maybe Emma eats this way for a reason, then curses herself. There she'd gone and thought of Emma again. She was a never ending, present thought in the forefront of her mind that she couldn't push down. She'd even had a wet dream about the blonde last night, one Regina had woken up furious with because there was no way in hell something like that would ever happen between the two of them again. Even a friendship halfway to where they were before seemed unattainable, not that Regina really wanted that anyway. Or so she told herself.

But of course, Henry says it first. "So. We should talk about.....this." Regina sighs, gets up, and starts clearing the table. She wants to act like there's nothing to talk about, but both residents know that's bull.

"Henry, I-"

"Hate to break it to you, you can't stay in this crappy hotel forever." He deadpans, keeping eye contact with her as she throws away the garbage.

"I just don't want to keep ruining your vacation, making it worse," she explains sadly, knowing that if she and Emma remained in the same house....well, it would be unwise. She's also fully aware that his vacation is already utterly ruined, but has no other excuse. The only other option is to go home, and she'll be face to face with the blonde in a second if she doesn't have to be the first to bring up that idea to her son. Henry sighs once more, reading her thoughts.

"I thought you might say that. Well, I might as well tell you now." He holds out his phone for her to see, an airline website displayed on the screen. "I bought three tickets home."

Regina stumbles to her chair, sits down. "Henry, I'm so, so sorry you felt like you had to do that," she says quietly, trying to wrap her head around this. She feels as though she should get awarded with a "Worst Mother of the Year" plaque right about now.

Henry scoffs, slaps his phone down on the table. "I 'felt like I had to do this'? It had to be done. I'm being responsible here, I'm owning up to the fact that a vacation out here with just the three of us was a shitty idea, having you two sleep in the same apartment with not enough beds, while the both of you had simultaneous oblivious crushes on each other. I should have known something like this would happen, I'm honestly surprised it's taken this long."

Regina stands up, appalled. "What are you trying to say?"

Henry shakes his head, stands up as well. "Why don't you pack up, and I'll step out and let Emma know the change in plan. And yes, I booked us separate flights, you're welcome." He says, already dialing Emma. With a sympathetic glance behind him, he leaves the hotel room. Regina stays rooted for a solid minute or two, trying to comprehend what Henry just said. She also noted that he hadn't referred to Emma as "Ma" in front of her, and she feels tears spring to her eyes.

If she'd known that one vacation, two full glasses of scotch, and one night with Emma would bring hell to this family, she would never have signed up for any of this.

AN: sorry for SUUUUUCH a long time between my updates! I'll try to be better now. Also, I apologize that this chapter was so short, but I tried to finish it up and get it out there before it took me another week. Vote or comment if you enjoyed!:)